“You got lucky. Seems like it couldn’t bite through your jacket,” she declared.
“It hurts like a bastard though.”
“Probably from the pressure of the bite,” Smith told him.
“If you’re fine, then try running a bypass on this door,” Jack ordered, standing aside while stepping back and turning to face the way they came before taking on a defensive position. Tyrone moved beside him while Smith stuck with Ridgewell as they closed in on the door.
“How’s your ammo looking?” Tyrone asked.
“Burnt through about three quarters. You?”
“Same.”
“Awesome,” Jack stated derisively.
“Why are Bolvinox here?”
“I’d guess they’re either here to collect something or prevent the facility from being destroyed. Either way, setting off the self-destruct system seems even more important now.”
“What about Bridges and the doctor?”
“First we need to figure out if we can get the device armed, then we make sure our people are safe,” Jack responded. With the elevators locked down he wasn’t sure how they’d reconnect with their other team members, but he knew for certain he wouldn’t be leaving them in the facility after they set the self-destruct.
Chapter Ten
THE HELICOPTER WAS pulling away, leaving Maxwell alone in the parking lot of the strip mall. It was in the suburbs of Dewbury, on the western side near the city. About two miles away was a residential area that had been completely overrun, the last scan revealing there to be about a thousand infected in the area. Maxwell had suggested the site when he sent an unsecured message stating he wanted to talk with Haddenfield to his own personal email account. He had figured, if he was still alive, Haddenfield would see it and hopefully take the bait. Maxwell had received a self-deleting response stating a time and confirmation of the location. The next message he’d received had been clear: come alone, but he doubted if - or when - Haddenfield turned up he’d be on his own. Most likely he’d have a squad of ex-Coalition soldiers with him. Maxwell had had forty-eight hours until the meeting, and in that time he’d done all he could to learn about the secret program operating within the Coalition. Sadly, that hadn’t been much, so Maxwell intended to keep his appointment and return with Haddenfield as his prisoner.
Looking around the parking lot, Maxwell did his best to make sure he was currently alone. There were four cars interspersed in front of the seven stores that made up the strip mall. There wasn’t anything of note about the buildings themselves: a generic drug store, a discount goods place, a local supermarket, he identified absently, not focusing on the others. There was a divided highway behind him, and on the other side of that were more stores, including a particularly large, warehouse-style building that was apparently a DIY store, as well as a couple of fast food restaurants.
It was getting to be something of a muggy night. He reached into his pocket to retrieve his cigarette packet, and then remembered he’d discarded the empty in his office. He sighed, wishing he had picked up a spare on the way out, and instead let his hand drift down to the gun holster on his belt. The sound of the helicopter he’d travelled in was still audible, but definitely moving further away. He’d given instructions for them to hover about five miles away, which should, he imagined, satisfy his guests, but it would be close enough for them to fly back to pick him up when he was done - assuming he was still alive. To Maxwell’s mind, there were two things that might happen at the meeting: either Haddenfield, or whoever actually turned up, would attempt to recruit Maxwell to the cause, or they’d simply gun him down. The latter seemed less likely to him than the former, as killing him wouldn’t change the course of the efforts against Bolvinox, but it was still a possibility. Maxwell faced either prospect with the same sense of steely calm he’d faced other precarious situations.
Waiting for his enemies to show themselves, Maxwell tried to remember the last time he’d been afraid. There had been close calls throughout his professional life, and some had been far closer than others... like his time in Czortzia, but even then he hadn’t been truly afraid. Maxwell wondered if that made him some kind of sociopath, but immediately his thoughts drifted to his wife and son. Normally he wouldn’t allow himself to feel the emotions that came when he thought about them - hell, normally he wouldn’t even allow himself to think about them at all while on duty. As he stood in the warm, clammy air, without a smoke and waiting for a possible Bolvinox hit squad, Maxwell thought of the good times with his wife and son, and tried not to think of the pain of finding them torn apart. Maxwell hadn’t been the most present person in their lives. His work had sent him all over the world, fighting this threat to national security or combating that global terror network, but when he’d been home, Maxwell made it his business to be truly at home. Unlike a number of others he knew who had been divorced by their spouses or estranged from their children, Maxwell had always known his relationship with both was good - his wife loved him and his son wanted to be just like him. He’d been home when the outbreak hit, called to the operations room on the military base he’d lived on with them, which had suffered a number of cases of the summer flu that went around before the dead started to rise. When the first handful of people died suddenly, they’d put the base on a quarantine lockdown... just until they figured out what was going on. When those that died came back and started to feast on the living, there was such a mess of confusion it took them a while to put the creatures down. When the people they’d killed got back up, no one realizing only a headshot truly ended their reign of terror until later, the panic that set in was even harder to control. Henrietta and Argyle were supposed to have been evacuated along with the rest of the families in their block of houses. However, due to a misunderstanding of the order he’d given they’d been left behind, after being told Maxwell would be coming to get them himself. A pair of those zombie bastards had made it inside his home, and despite Henrietta’s best efforts, they’d overwhelmed her, then his son. By the time he arrived... Maxwell stopped right there. He couldn’t allow the image in his memory to materialize before his eyes. Without thinking, he reached for his cigarettes again, then cursed and stopped himself.
Maxwell looked along the road leading into the city. There was some ambient lighting from the streetlights, though more than a few seemed to have been damaged and were no longer operational. Despite that limitation however, Maxwell could see the approaching vehicle. Its headlights were off and he couldn’t be certain if there was another vehicle close behind. Regardless, it was coming towards him.
“I guess it's show time,” Maxwell said to himself.
After a few minutes, the armored vehicle pulled into the lot, with a second identical vehicle behind it parking alongside it. The front passenger doors opened, the occupants disembarking and scanning the area before the rear doors opened. One person emerged from the rear of the first vehicle, and two from the second, the drivers remaining in their seats.They were all dressed in black, very much like the Bolvinox security team Jack had encountered in the hospital. They all carried assault rifles and seemed to be focusing their aim entirely on Maxwell. A second occupant stepped out from the rear of the first vehicle. He was wearing a three-piece charcoal suit, and appeared to be about the same age as Maxwell. His hair was snow white and styled in a typical military cut. Cold, emotionless gray eyes surveyed Maxwell before a fake smile spread across his lips.
“General Tobias Maxwell,” he declared.
“General David Haddenfield,” Maxwell returned. “You’re looking remarkably alive.”
“Are you surprised?”
“Not really. It seems you’re heavily involved in the shitstorm that’s engulfing the world these days.”
“Heavily involved? Not really,” Haddenfield responded, approaching Maxwell but stopping about five feet short of him. His eyes drifted to the firearm on Maxwell’s belt.
“You want me to lose the piece? Afraid I might gun down your seven bodyguards?�
� Maxwell mocked.
“Don’t worry, I know you’re not that stupid,” Haddenfield said, smirking again. “I took a look at your file when you sent that message to yourself - the unredacted version of your file from the Coalition’s database. I’ll be honest, I’m kind of surprised we didn’t approach you before.”
“Who didn’t approach me? I’m kind of hoping that in the course of this conversation you’ll tell me how high this goes,” Maxwell told him. Haddenfield gave a slight shrug of his shoulders.
“Pretty high.”
“Does the Director know?”
“Not that I’m aware of. No matter how well informed he appears to be, the Director doesn’t know every facet of every operation the Coalition is involved in.”
“So answer me one question: why?”
Haddenfield shook his head.
“Probably for the reasons you can imagine. The original compound was supposed to be a miracle cure all. We could have soldiers with the ability to heal their wounds almost instantly, or treat diseases that would normally ravage the body. Every aspect of human life would’ve been improved... for the right price, of course.”
“And the second?”
“Was supposed to be just like the first, but there was something different about Genetic Material X, some slight variant that meant the difference between the first and second strain might as well have been worlds apart.”
“I’m surprised you’re giving this information up so easily.”
“Hell, I know you already know this much. Just as I know this information is already being worked on and deciphered by your people both at Fort Elridge and across what’s left of the world. But there’s more, Maxwell, a whole lot more that you can find out only when you come over to this side.”
“And how do I go about doing that?” Maxwell probed, in answer to which Haddenfield smiled.
“It’s not exactly an easy thing, but it's simple enough,” Haddenfield assured him.
“Spit it out, I’m not getting any younger,” Maxwell told him dismissively.
“We have a number of assets at our disposal, a certain amount of hardware too, but our influence isn’t unlimited. You’d be surprised how small a percentage of the Coalition is involved. You’re in charge of the Illinois campaign, and we need you to manipulate the playing field.”
“To what end?”
“You don’t need to know why, but the what is simple enough: move some people out, shift a couple of squads in. When that’s done we’ll take care of things ourselves.”
“I’d still rather know why,” Maxwell responded.
“Not until we’re sure you’re onboard with the plan,” Haddenfield replied curtly. “Like I said before, you’re not a stupid man. You arranged this meeting, and I have to believe that’s because you wanted to get ahead of the end that’s coming to everyone not onboard with our plan. We’ve got measures in place to fix everything - most importantly, to wipe out the undead - but first we need to let this play out a little more. There are some changes that need to be made to the landscape first.”
“Say I do this, what’s in it for me?” Maxwell probed.
“Firstly, you’ll get to live,” Haddenfield told him with a cold smile. “And secondly, once everything’s squared away, there’s going to be a lot of money and power to divide up. Play your cards right and you’ll get your fair share.”
Maxwell nodded, looking Haddenfield right in the eyes. He was carrying a smug sense of self worth, clearly delighting in the role of puppet master, but it was a role he was pretending to play: Maxwell knew better. Haddenfield wasn’t the puppet master, much as he might want to be. No, Maxwell could tell just by looking at him that while he may have some power and presence in the shadow organization that was festering within the Coalition, Haddenfield had a master of his own. Still, the man would make a decent prize and could likely provide a fair amount of intel.
“Got a smoke? I left mine back at the base,” Maxwell declared. Haddenfield laughed - the first genuine thing he’d done since their meeting.
“I thought I was the only one who smoked these days.”
“Well, it’s not as though it’s the most dangerous thing we’re dealing with is it?”
Haddenfield extracted a packet of cigarettes from his inside jacket pocket, tapped the end of the packet to release a cigarette and approached Maxwell. The latter took it with his left hand, while retrieving his lighter.
“Do we have an agreement, Tobias?” Haddenfield asked. Maxwell put the cigarette between his lips and lit it, taking a long pull before blowing the smoke into the night sky. He pocketed the lighter, and then let his hand hover near his hip - inches from his firearm. Haddenfield was within two feet of him now - separated from his guards, just as he wanted.
“Here’s the thing, David,” Maxwell said. “I don’t like you. I don’t like you, what your people stand for, or the shit you’ve done to this world. By proxy, you’ve killed a lot of people, and amongst the dead are the two who were dearest to me. Who still are the dearest to me. So, I’ve a counter offer to make as it were: surrender yourself, get your team to put down their weapons, and you’ll all retain your lives. Fail to do so, and I’ll kill them all, take you prisoner and you’ll tell me everything I want to know regardless,” Maxwell stated simply. He smiled briefly then pulled on his cigarette again.
Haddenfield regarded Maxwell with curiosity at first, and then a smile spread across his lips before he started laughing in Maxwell’s face. He turned to look at his team before focusing his attention on Maxwell again.
“Perhaps you’re not quite as smart as I thought,” Haddenfield announced. “You’re going to somehow kill seven people with that weapon on your hip?”
“Not at all,” Maxwell responded calmly. “I’m going to kill them with this.”
Maxwell placed the cigarette in the corner of his mouth then raised his left hand with his index finger pointing out and his thumb sticking up, making a ‘gun’ like a child on the playground would. Haddenfield looked down at his hand and shook his head in confusion.
“You can’t be serious.”
Maxwell raised his hand, pointing it at the closest soldier to his right.
“Last chance,” he declared ominously.
Haddenfield shook his head.
“Kill him,” Haddenfield instructed his men as he turned away.
“Bang,” Maxwell said coolly.
In the instant the word left his mouth, the side of the head of the man he’d been aiming at exploded out, blood, bone and brain spattering over the comrade beside him - before he too was felled in the same manner a micro-second later. Confusion immediately seized the group, who were torn between defending themselves from an unseen and previously unknown threat and following the instruction to gun Maxwell down. Faster than some men many years his junior, Maxwell leapt into action. He drew his sidearm with his right hand while wrapping his left arm around Haddenfield’s neck, pulling him close and beginning to throttle him. Maxwell fired at one of the soldiers, executing him with a headshot in the same instant that another was killed by sniper fire. Four were dead, three remained; the two still in their vehicles emerged and hurried to take cover behind them - as did their remaining comrade. Maxwell was already moving, dragging and heaving Haddenfield as he lay down suppressing fire with his pistol. The sniper aided him, picking off one soldier as he peeked over the top of the vehicle. Within moments, Maxwell had dragged Haddenfield down behind a vehicle.
“What—” Haddenfield managed to get out, clawing at Maxwell’s strong grip around his neck.
“Not now,” Maxwell told him, releasing Haddenfield only to pistol whip him into unconsciousness an instant later. A salvo of bullets tore into the vehicle he was sheltering behind. Glass broke and rained down on him and heavy thuds announced the impacts into the metal frame of the car. A loud pop followed by hissing signalled the destruction of a tire, and the vehicle began to sink a little, but not enough to make it useless as cover. Maxwell ejected his
mostly empty magazine, tossed it aside and loaded in a fresh one. As soon as there was a momentary break in the gunfire, he leaned up and squeezed off a few quick shots, though he was certain he didn’t hit anyone. A black-clad figure shifted up, only to cry out in pain after a spurt of blood erupted from his shoulder; whereupon he fell back behind one of the armored vehicles. They were pinned down and they knew it, meaning Maxwell saw an opportunity to end the killing and secure more prisoners.
“Throw down your weapons or the only way you’ll get out of here will be in body bags!” Maxwell called out. Another salvo of bullets tore into the vehicle, popping another tire and shattering whatever remained of one of the windows.
Taking his answer from their salvo, Maxwell looked down to Haddenfield and made sure he was still unconscious. Satisfied, he spat his cigarette out and took a deep breath before edging to the front end of the vehicle. The one the sniper had winged was crying out in pain, still alive, but by the sounds he was making Maxwell didn’t figure he was much of a threat any more. That meant there was only one more, though where he was exactly Maxwell couldn’t tell, but he liked the odds now far better than the ones he’d faced less than thirty seconds ago.
The armored vehicles were directly across from him, and from his previous attempt to return fire Maxwell knew he didn’t have a good angle. He looked towards the storefronts and saw a series of small, raised stone planters with shrubbery in them. The bushes wouldn’t afford any cover and the planters were too low to be effective. Looking out towards the highway, he couldn’t see anything of value there either.
“Well, shit,” Maxwell muttered as the gunfire ended. Suddenly, he heard the sound of doors slamming and an engine turning over - followed immediately by the sound of loud complaints from the screamer just before a pair of near simultaneous shots killed the engine. The vehicle whined down and came to a stop, and after a moment, he heard a door opening.
“I’m going to throw down my weapon!” a voice called out.
The Z Directive (Book 2): Mutation Page 17
